Alice thought that putting their town on the map with the wild claim of finding Bigfoot probably would not thrill most of Acorn Hill’s residents.
“Ronald and I believe the creature must be nocturnal,” Florence explained to Alice what she had been saying when Alice entered. “Therefore, the key to finding it is to seek it out when it is active.”
Ronald looked pained. “Florence thinks we should make an overnight expedition tomorrow near the pond in hopes of—”
“In hopes of catching it on camera,” Florence interrupted. “If we could get a photograph of it, we could send the photo along with the hair and a cast of the footprint to a scientist for analysis.”
“But we don’t have a footprint,” Alice reminded her. “Yes, Ronald and I saw a large print, but the storm—”
“I propose to have you work with an artist,” Florence interjected. “You know, Alice, like the police do when they have a witness who can describe someone?”
Alice thought that was the most ridiculous idea she had heard in a very long time. “Florence, footprints don’t have distinguishing features. Faces have eyes, noses, mouths, all of which can be very distinctive. All I could tell you about these prints is that they were big and broad. Period.”
“Well, no matter.” Florence dismissed this objection with an airy wave of her hand. “We still have the hair and the creature’s picture.”
“Assuming there is a creature to get a picture of,” Fred said logically.
Florence glared at him. “If you’re coming along on this expedition tomorrow night, you can’t think so negatively. The creature might sense negative energy.”
“Sorry, Florence.” Fred glanced at Alice, and she read his expression perfectly. Somebody needs to stop this silliness.
“Alice,” said Ronald, “you’ll come, won’t you? After all, we were the first adults to see the tracks.”
“Oh, I don’t think so… ” Alice wished she had work as an excuse but unless she got an emergency call to take a shift tomorrow evening, she wasn’t scheduled. “I’ll just hear the report when you get back.”
“You have to come, Alice,” said Florence. “Ronald’s right. You two had the first sighting. It’s important that you be there for the filming.”
“Can I come?” Bobby Dawson pushed forward eagerly.
Florence frowned. She and Ronald had no children of their own and Florence was not known to be particularly maternal. “Only if your parents give permission,” she said. “And one of them comes along,” she added slyly.
“Aww. My folks hate camping,” Bobby grumbled. “They’ll never go for that.”
“I’d like to come, if I may,” Maxwell said.
“Certainly,” said Florence. “The more, the merrier. Adults, that is,” she added with a glance at Bobby to be sure he had gotten the message.
“I’ll go if you go, Alice,” said Fred. “I doubt Vera will come. Camping’s not really her thing.”
“Oh, pish-posh,” Florence said dismissively. “Of course she must come. I wouldn’t want her to miss it.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Why don’t we plan to pursue our little expedition tomorrow night?” Florence plowed right over Fred’s objection.
“All right,” said Fred reluctantly. “I’ll ask Vera.”
“Wonderful!” Florence rose majestically from the stool where she had been holding court. “Let’s go, Ronald. We must check out all our camping gear and purchase supplies.”
“Supplies?”
“Well, of course. What do you think we’re going to eat while we’re on this hunt?”
As Ronald followed her out, Fred began to chuckle. “This should be interesting.”
Alice turned and grinned at him. “You do realize Vera is going to scalp you when she learns you volunteered her to spend a night in the woods with Florence, right?”
Thursday after school, Alice’s ANGELs were being driven by their parents to the nursing home. This was the afternoon that the ANGELs were hosting the nursing home residents’ senior prom. As Alice began to carry her boxes of decorations out to the car, Maxwell came down the stairs.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Going to a senior prom,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “These are the decorations.”
“A senior prom…?” He looked totally bewildered.
Alice laughed. “You’ve heard me mention the group of girls I work with, the ANGELs. We’re going to a nursing home to host a tea dance for the residents. Oh, it won’t be a real dance,” she said as she saw a question in his eyes. “Some of the residents are nonambulatory and many of them use walkers or canes. But we plan to dress up, play music and help them move as much as they are able.”
He was smiling. To Alice’s surprise, he said, “I don’t suppose you would let me come along, would you?”
Alice hesitated, completely unprepared for the request.
“Oh, never mind,” he said. “It just sounded interesting.”
“Maxwell, I would be delighted to have you come along,” Alice said. “You just caught me off-guard.”
“I think I caught myself off-guard,” he said, sounding a little surprised.
“We can always use an extra pair of hands to decorate. Please do come.”
“All right.” He turned to take the last box to her car. “I’ll carry this out, and then I’ll run up and put on a suit.”
Alice’s eyebrows rose as he dashed off. He was really taking this seriously. She glanced down at her dress, a pretty floral pattern in pinks, lavenders and greens. Oh, those feather boas were going to look amazing with it, she thought, amused at herself.
When they arrived at the nursing home, they carried the boxes inside. The ANGELs began to arrive and everyone pitched in to help with decorating. Maxwell, with his height and long arms, was quite popular with anyone who needed to hang something from a higher spot. And Alice was pleased to note that he interacted very pleasantly with the girls. Ten minutes before the residents were to begin arriving, the girls rushed off to the visitors’ restroom to don their “prom dresses.”
They returned, bubbling and adorable, most in dresses that Alice suspected would be their Easter finery. The first of the residents shuffled in, followed by wheelchairs pushed by smiling aides.
Alice put on the first CD of music she had prepared, turning it up a little louder than she normally would have. The director of the facility had suggested doing so, reminding Alice that many of the older folks had hearing difficulties.
The girls, suddenly shy, clumped together in a group, smiling and hanging back.
“I’m ready to trip the light fantastic,” one wizened little woman in a shiny red blouse declared.
To Alice’s astonishment, Maxwell moved forward and bent down so that he was close to her level. “May I have this dance, madam?” He held out his hand and the tiny woman placed her delicate palm in his.
Alice blinked back sudden tears at the sight.
And Maxwell looked over his shoulder and beckoned to the knot of self-conscious teens. “Come on, girls. Grab a partner. Let’s make this the best senior prom ever.”
Jane checked in another guest early Thursday evening, a thirty-something woman named Ellis Andin. She was tiny and blonde, and she practically vibrated with energy.
“I’d like to stay for two nights,” she told Jane in a thin, high voice that instantly brought visions of Tinker Bell to mind.
“Of course,” Jane said. She launched into her usual informative chat about breakfast hours, where to take other meals, local attractions, but Ellis shook her head.
“Breakfasts will be lovely, but I will take the other meals with a friend. And I don’t want you to be concerned on Friday night because I will be out all night.”
“All night?” Jane wanted to be sure she had not misunderstood.
Ellis nodded. “I’ll be going on an overnight camping trip that’s just been planned. We’re looking for Bigfoot. I’m sure you r
ead about it in your local paper.”
“Looking for Bigfoot,” Jane repeated. “Oh yes, I read about it. Actually, my sister Alice is one of the two people who saw the footprints.”
“Oh!” Ellis looked even more animated, if that was possible. “I must speak with her. Get her impressions. So she was the woman with Ronald?”
“Ronald Simpson,” Jane confirmed. “Yes. You know Ronald?”
“No.” Ellis shook her head, sending blonde curls flying every which way. “I am acquainted with his wife Florence. She e-mailed us to report her findings, and I dropped everything to investigate.”
“Investigate?” Jane felt like a parrot, but this small woman was making her head spin.
“Yes. I am a member of the Sasquatch Society of America. We have investigators in every region of the country and when a sighting is reported, we mobilize to evaluate the validity of the claim.”
“I see. Florence e-mailed you, so here you are.”
“That’s it in a nutshell.” Ellis cocked her head. “I’m going to take my things up to my room. You needn’t come up with me. Then, if you would be so kind, I’d like to get directions to the Simpsons’ home. If you’re not familiar with their residence, I can call them and ask—”
“That’s all right,” Jane said. “I know Florence and Ronald quite well. I’ll call her and let her know you’re coming, and I’ll write out directions for you.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Ellis vanished up the stairs.
Jane shook her head. My dear? She picked up the phone and dialed, common sense dictating that she confirm that Ellis Andin really was who she said she was before giving out the Simpson’s home information.
Florence, indeed, vouched for Ellis, so Jane promised to send the new guest over as soon as she was settled. In only a few minutes Ellis came downstairs to get the directions and head off on her mission. Alice came in the kitchen door soon after Ellis breezed out the front door.
“Hi, Alice,” Jane greeted her as she pulled some things from the refrigerator. “How did the prom go?”
“Oh, Jane, it was truly wonderful. Everyone—the residents, the staff, the girls, Maxwell—had a marvelous time!”
“Maxwell?”
“Oh yes,” Alice replied. “He was the hit of the afternoon. When he heard what the ANGELs were doing, he volunteered to help. He not only helped to decorate, but he kept the party going. I think half the ladies are in love with him. He was so sweet, gently guiding those elderly ladies around the floor. And he got even the shiest of the men talking.”
“My my, will wonders never cease?” Jane smiled as she put the finishing touches on a casserole.
“Well, actually, today is full of wonders. You’ll never believe what I heard at the Coffee Shop earlier,” Alice said.
“Would it have anything to do with a Bigfoot hunting trip?”
Alice stared at Jane. “It would. How did you find out?”
Jane laughed. “Now you’re the one who won’t believe it. We have a Bigfoot specialist from the Sasquatch Society of America staying here for the next two days.”
Louise stepped into the kitchen from the hallway just in time to hear the last sentence. She set down the loaf of bread she had purchased at Jane’s request and said slowly, “You are joking.”
Jane held up her right hand, palm out, as if taking an oath. “I swear it’s the truth.” Quickly, she went on to tell her sisters about Florence contacting the society and Ellis’ mission.
Then Alice recounted her adventure in the Coffee Shop that afternoon.
Louise sank into a kitchen chair. “These people are under a spell. It’s the only explanation.”
“Maybe someone put something in the water,” Jane suggested.
Alice snickered. “This really is crazy, isn’t it?” Then she frowned. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you—Fred and I got roped into going on this expedition tomorrow night. Maxwell’s coming too. I believe he thinks that it’ll be quite a lark.”
“Maybe for him it will be,” Jane said.
“Vera doesn’t know that she’s been volunteered yet,” Alice said.
“Oh my. I’d like to be a fly on the wall in the Humbert house tonight,” Jane said with a chuckle.
“As I mentioned, Maxwell’s quite excited about the camping trip,” Alice went on. “You know, he has told me a bit about his childhood. I’ll bet that Maxwell has never gone camping. Jane could be correct. This might be a grand adventure for a young man starved for any sort of normal interaction. Although interacting with Florence when she is on a mission hardly can be termed normal.”
“Amen to that,” Jane said.
The phone rang, and Louise answered. “Grace Chapel Inn, Louise speaking. May I help you?”
Jane saw her face change as she listened to the speaker at the other end. Her shoulders sagged, her mouth turned down and her eyes lowered.
“Yes,” she said. “No, Mr. Jervis, I’m so sorry to tell you that we have not found him yet.”
She listened some more, pressing her lips together. “Oh no,” she said. “We don’t blame you in the least. It could have happened to anyone. Wendell was—is the adventurous sort. We haven’t given up. It’s only been a bit over a week. He may be found yet… oh, you’re too kind. But no, truly, we don’t want you to get us another kitten. Although I appreciate the thought and I know my sisters will, also… yes, yes, of course we will give you a call…”
As she concluded the conversation, Jane said, “Oh, poor man. I feel so bad that he’s worrying about Wendell. I’m glad you reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, Louise.”
“Well, it wasn’t.” From the expression on her elder sister’s face, Jane was sure she was thinking that it had been her fault for getting annoyed with Wendell.
“Louise,” said Alice in a tone far more severe than she normally employed, “I do not give you permission to blame yourself for Wendell’s disappearance anymore.”
Louise and Jane both were so startled they turned and stared at Alice.
She winked.
And all three of them smiled.
“All right,” Louise said. “I am trying hard to let go of guilt. Really I am.”
“I hope so,” Jane said. “I told you before, I could have been the one that chased the little rascal off that table. The end result may have been the same.”
“We’re assuming Wendell had a reason for getting into that car,” Alice pointed out. “He’s a cat. He simply might have been curious and settled down for a nap. Can you imagine the surprise he got?”
Jane said, “You’re right. He very well might have hopped into Mr. Jervis’ car even if we’d fed him tuna that morning.”
On Friday morning, Jane, Ethel and Clothilda went into town. Ethel had a plan.
“We’ll go to all our Acorn Hill businesses and ask who knows any Moellers in the area,” she said enthusiastically. “Shopkeepers and public servants get to know scads of people. We can make a list so we don’t duplicate names. Then we can visit them to see if anyone knows any family history that might link them to Clothilda.”
“That’s a great idea,” Jane said. “I also made a list of Moeller names from the telephone book. We can compare it with the list we make today to be sure we don’t miss anyone. There are five families with the Moeller name in the area around Potterston and Acorn Hill.”
Clothilda was not quite as spry as Ethel, so Jane dropped the two off at the library, where they intended to start their search. Then she parked the car and joined them.
Ethel already was talking a mile a minute to Nia when Jane walked in. Clothilda stood at her side, beaming and nodding.
“Oh, I have several Moellers listed who have library cards,” Nia told them. “But Ethel, I cannot give out names and addresses of library patrons.”
Ethel frowned. “It’s not as if we’re terrorists, Nia. You know us personally.”
Nia shook her head firmly, her friendly smile still in place. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t.” Th
en she brightened. “I’ll tell you what I can do. I can contact all the Moellers and either give them your phone number or get their permission to give you their information. Would that help?”
Jane could see Ethel’s shoulders relax. “That would be a very acceptable alternative, if you don’t mind the extra work.”
Nia shrugged. “Not at all. I have to contact library patrons for many reasons, anyway, and it’s likely that some of these Moellers already are on my list to call.”
“Here.” Jane dug a small notepad out of her purse and wrote down Ethel’s telephone number. “This is how you can reach Ethel. I would give you the inn’s number so people could talk to Clothilda, but—”
“My English on the telephone is so not good,” Clothilda said earnestly. “Ethel will be much easier to speak.”
“Thank you, Jane,” said Ethel. “And thank you, Nia. We appreciate your help.”
The three women left the library and walked around the small town, stopping at various shops, the post office and other public buildings. In each place, they left Ethel’s contact information rather than requesting that any information be divulged. At the post office, the postmistress suggested that they place a notice on the public bulletin board in the lobby where the mailboxes were located. “Everybody reads that thing,” she promised.
“That’s a good idea,” Jane said. “There could be people with other surnames who have Moellers somewhere in their family tree.”
In the Good Apple Bakery, Clarissa Cottrell said, “Oh, I met someone the other week named Moeller. She just joined my art class. I’m starting watercolors,” Clarissa told her. “Never tried that medium but the other club members have encouraged me, so I’m giving it a whirl. Now what was that woman’s name?” she muttered to herself. Then she shrugged. “All I remember is the Moeller part. But we have a meeting coming up, so I’ll make a note to ask her.”
Jane held out one of the small notes on which she’d written the contact information. “Here. Please tell her that you know some folks doing genealogical research on the Moeller name and that they’d like to speak to her.”
Talk of the Town Page 12
